Sam's Declassified SSG: The First Day
by BlueRoyKaz
Summary: The story of Ned, Moze, and Cookie's misadventures at Polk Middle School are the thing of legend. But now a new legend is being born with three new students: Sam, DJ, and Larry have just arrived bringing a whole new string of trouble and fun with them!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Sam and DJ and Larry **

The sun was hidden by dark and threatening gray clouds; thunder rumbled not too far off in the distance; the birds were all hiding in the trees protecting their young from the gathering winds; a storm was clearly coming and coming soon. Yet during all of this, Sam Bigby (long distant cousin of a certain Ned Bigby; they didn't even know each other existed at the moment, however) was ever cheerful. It was the first day of school! Bounding with limitless 11-year-old enthusiasm, he rummaged around his extremely mess room (reminiscent of a pigsty) looking for his clothes, shoes, backpack, and of course, his Declassified School Survival Guide.

The Guide was not exactly an idea of his – his father (James) and mother (Marilyn) had said that it was an ancient family tradition to create a Guide to help survive school. They had said that it was something that went back to ancient times, even supposedly to the time when the idea of school was first invented.

As soon as Sam finished collecting all of his necessary materials for his first day at Middle School, he ran out of his room and banged on the door across from him. The occupant inside was still asleep – and if that person didn't wake up in the next couple minutes they were going to be late for the bus.

"Yo, DJ! You awake yet?!" Sam's untidy black hair swept across his forehead, and he impatiently brushed it aside. His clear blue eyes gazed at the door furiously, as though they could burn a hole right through it if he willed it. For an eleven-year-old, Sam was actually rather short for his age. It was something he was constantly picked on for – but Sam wasn't a person easily troubled by petty insults.

He banged on the door again. "DJ! We're – going – to – be – late – for – school!"

A young female voice shouted back through the door. "Door's unlocked, stupid."

Oh. Smiling slightly, Sam opened the door to reveal the slight figure of his best friend DJ getting ready for school. DJ – short for Danielle Jennifer – was drying off her newly wet reddish gold hair. Upon seeing Sam enter, her emerald green eyes flared up instantly. Sam stopped dead in his tracks. He was entering a no-man's land. Literally.

"What do you think you're doing, Sam Bigby?" Her voice had gone soft.

"You said the door was unlocked."

"It – didn't – mean – that – you – could – come – in – asshole!" She threw her towel at him, and Sam found himself being pushed roughly out of the room.

"Ow – ow – DJ – it was an accident – OW!"

"Out, out, out!"

And he was out. The door slammed behind him, and Sam took the towel off and discarded it aside. Sighing (but still smiling) he ran a hand through his untidy black hair and set down the stairs to have his breakfast. He would wait for DJ there.

* * *

DJ finished drying her hair, and proceeded to put together the needed things for middle school. All summer long, she had been waiting for this day. All summer long. For an eleven-year-old girl that seemed like practically forever. To prove herself at her new middle school. Middle School – she was, admittedly, nervous.

Her nervousness was making her feel queasy – so she did what she typically did whenever she was anxious about something. She walked around to her bed and picked up a picture showing three people.

Her parents holding her as a baby. DJ's dad, smiling and awkward with his dark brown hair (DJ had retained her mothers looks, but she had acquired her fathers eyes) and her mom, with her reddish gold hair and big brown eyes. Both of them immeasurably happy-looking holding their newborn daughter. DJ smiled at the picture – a moment, forever frozen in time. She missed her parents a lot – it had been eleven years since she had last seen or heard from them. They had gone out to work one day, and they just never came back to pick her up. The Bigbys had been entrusted with her care in the event of anything happening to them, and her life had been with them for the past eleven years.

Her parents would be proud of DJ, if they could see how far she had come. The picture calmed her nerves, and with renewed resolve she picked up her things and headed out the door with her head held high. No matter what lay ahead, she had her best friend Sam to back her up. Sam never backed out on his friends, no matter what.

**DJ's POV **

**Sam – my best friend of 11 years. Which is pretty much all of my life, so far. How can I explain Sam? Well for one, he's about medium height and medium build with really dark hair and clear blue eyes. He is always smiling (something I personally find both charming and irritating at the same time) and he has a great sense of humor. In the area of intelligence, well . . . he's about a three watt, I'd say. He's not the brightest. But I get the feeling that he's smarter than he lets on; he just needs the motivation to apply himself. **

**He's sweet, funny, and loyal to his friends, cheerful – basically Sam's the kind of guy any girl would want to meet. He's a keeper; honestly I think any girl would be blessed to know him. I know I am. **

**Don't misunderstand me, though. Sam's like a brother to me – I wouldn't consider dating him for a second. It wouldn't feel right. I've known him my whole life; I live with him; I eat his food; I sleep in his house 24/7. It would be too awkward. So, sorry no. Besides, despite all the nice things I've said about him, he's not my type. Not now, not ever. **

* * *

Sam crunched on his cereal, casually checking his Mickey Mouse glow-in-the-dark watch every now and then. He tried to disguise his rather obvious anxiety, but if DJ didn't come out soon, then he would have no choice but to walk with her in the pouring rain to school. Being late on a first day to a new school never made a good first impression, but Sam would never consider ditching DJ to walk alone in the rain. She was his best friend. **Tip #1: Never ditch your friends no matter what. **

**Sam's POV **

**DJ – where do I begin? Well, I guess it all started when her parents just disappeared. Poof, just like that. They were gone. The police searched and searched for weeks, but no traces of them were ever found. I can't really say I miss them – I was only one years old. So was DJ. In their will, DJ was to be entrusted to my family. And the rest, as they say, is history. She's been living with us for all of her eleven years. **

**DJ is short for Danielle Jennifer and her last name was Ryan. Danielle Jennifer Ryan. Sheesh, she was made fun of during her early preschool years because of her name. She had three first names! I didn't find it funny, though. So in desperation, I tried to rename her. But I came across several problems: **

**There were like 5 Danielle's in the entire class. **

**There were even more Jennifer's in the class. **

**Don't even get me started on Ryan. All of them were boys. DJ would never have forgiven me. **

**It was then, when all hoped seemed lost, that I had a typical Sam Bigby brainwave! Danielle Jennifer – DJ! And so she was rechristened; the nickname stuck. She liked it, I liked it, and the entire class liked it. They even became jealous of it. Ha! Success! **

**DJ isn't what you'd call your normal girl – she's what scientists refer to as the "Tomboy". You know that girl that acts a lot like a boy? Yeah, that pretty much sums her up. Her hair seems to match her personality – fiery, rebellious, and free. She has shiny golden red hair (auburn, some would say) and the coolest emerald green eyes. Her smile is infectious – it's like she lights up the whole room with it. **

**Don't even think about dating her though: I may not be her brother, but that doesn't mean I won't be keeping my eye out for her. She's gotten into her fair share of trouble before, and it was through my divine intervention that she got out without a hitch. Lucky for her, she has me. I consider her family, and like a sister. I may be small and diminutive, but yeah – **

**Mess with her and I'll kick your ass. **

Sam was broken out of his musings by the sound of thunder booming outside. He glanced out the window, and saw that it was raining extremely hard. The rain literally threw itself against the window. His parents were undisturbed, however. Sam snorted; he knew that his parents had slept through hurricanes before. Mere rain would not bother them.

"DJ had better hurry up, or else she'll be late" his dad said behind his newspaper. Sam's dad was a doctor – cheerful, good humored, and kind. Sam had inherited his looks from his father. His patients knew him well and respected him. James Bigby was well respected within the community.

"Don't worry, James, she'll make it. DJ never fools around." Sam's mother's reassuring voice rang softly through the quiet atmosphere of the kitchen. Marilyn Bigby was by no means no less famous than her husband – she was a nurse, and worked with her husband. She was a nurse by choice, though – she had been offered the position of an official doctor more than once. She had all the qualifications; she had the knowledge and the tools to use it. But she had repeatedly declined, merely stating, "We already have one doctor in the family." She was modest and kind. Her brown eyes radiated warmth and sincerity at all times.

True to her word, DJ came clamoring down the stairs swearing at the top of her voice. Sam jumped up, and ran to her. "DJ – we're going to be late!"

"You don't think I know that, Sam?!" Her voice was rushed.

"Bye Mom! Bye Dad!" Sam waved at them, and sprinted through the front door into the pelting rain.

"Sam! You imbecile!" DJ swore again.

"Language, DJ." Marilyn's voice was soft, but reprimanding.

DJ blushed. She was constantly embarrassed at her potty mouth. DJ made a mental note to ask Sam for tips to help quell that bad habit. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Bigby."

Marilyn laughed a deep, rich laugh. "DJ, how many times have I asked you not to call me that. 'Mrs. Bigby' makes me sound old. Marilyn, Mom, Mommy, or even Momma will do." Her voice was amused. DJ could never shake the habit of calling her Mrs. Bigby.

"Sorry, Mrs. Bigby – I mean, Marilyn." She smiled nervously – calling Sam's mom by her front name felt odd.

James called out from behind his newspaper. "Did Sam just leave?"

"Yes."

He sighed. "He forgot the umbrella, huh?"

"Yup."

"Do you mind giving it to him on your way out, DJ?" He held out a black umbrella for her to hold.

"Oh, of course." She took it, grabbed a piece of toast from Sam's plate, and sprinted out toward Sam – who, she noticed, was starting to realize just how hard it was really raining. "Thanks, Mr. and Mrs. Bigby!" DJ waved one last time then disappeared after Sam.

Sam's parents stood on the front porch observing the two children run towards the bus stop. They watched with amusement as DJ kicked Sam in the shins, and called him an idiot repeatedly over and over again (using different words and names to great effect). Then she forcefully handed him the umbrella, and commanded him to hold it for her. Sam obliged.

"You think she knows?" Marilyn asked her husband, as soon as the children turned the corner.

"No."

"What about Sam?"

"The same."

Marilyn sighed. "James, you really need to tell Sam about this. DJ, too. They are HER parents after all."

"She is too young. The time will come when they are ready."

Marilyn Bigby stared out into the pouring rain, her mind on distant thoughts. "I hope you're right, James. I hope you're right."

* * *

"Sam! SAM!" A voice coming from his right caused Sam to turn (wincing because of his bruised shins) and he smiled at the owner of the voice. It was Larry.

Larry was an eleven-year-old African-American male; he was Sam's other best friend. Sam had known Larry since kindergarten; they had met in the girl's bathroom of all places. It was there, eluding bullies and girls alike (until DJ rescued them), that their friendship first bloomed.

Larry was an odd one – it was established from birth that he was a child prodigy. Extremely smart in all subjects, it was he that had helped Sam get out of grade school with straight A's. Sam had been forever in his debt since then.

Another thing about Larry: Larry wasn't his real name. His real name is from an ancient language his ancestors once used, and neither Sam or the rest of the world could figure out how to pronounce it correctly (Larry or his parents didn't even know either; this contributed to his lack of friends because when asked what his name was, he couldn't respond – how Larry had managed to get through life with that burden is unknown). So Sam, when he met him in the stall in the girl's bathroom cowering with fear, just called him Larry – simply because he looked like a Larry. The name stuck. He was Larry, and Larry owed his newly found name to Sam.

"Hey, Larry", DJ called out. She waved back at him.

"What's with the weird vest?" Sam was referring to the bright orange vest Larry was wearing.

"Oh, this? This, my friends, is the latest in Larry technology! Seeing as though we're heading into a new school, I figured that I could use the protection. This vest is equipped with any non-lethal weapon ever invented. All I have to do is press a concealed button hidden underneath the vest and it activates the corresponding weapon. Pretty neat, huh?" Larry was popping with his enthusiasm.

DJ, being the more logical one out of the group, voiced her opinion. "Sounds like another BIG success, Larry. Just like your instant nose cleaner machine. You remember how THAT went?"

Larry winced. "No."

She rolled her eyes. "Let me refresh your memory, then. The machine had a glitch; it overheated and became stuck inside your nostrils. When they took you to the hospital and examined you, they discovered that it had fused to your nose hairs when it overheated. I understand that the surgery to remove the machine was excruciatingly painful, as when they pulled it out, they pulled out your nose hairs as well. You had to stay indoors in your room for half the summer because your nose hairs had to grow back. Does that ring any bells for you?"

"You didn't have to put it so straightforward", Larry said sullenly.

"I don't mean you any disrespect, Larry, but your inventions have a nasty tendency to backfire on you. I'm just trying to protect you from your creations."

Sam, however, complimented Larry on his ingenuity. "I think it's a great idea, Larry."

Larry brightened at this. "Thanks, Sam."

"No problem."

The bus finally pulled up, and the wet children immediately began to rush inside the dry bus. The driver – a friendly bearded man named Mr. Gus, told them not to hurry and to take their seats immediately and in an orderly fashion. Sam and Larry sat in a seat diagonal to the bus driver, while DJ took an empty one behind him. Sam was still complimenting Larry on the vest.

"It looks great, Larry, really great. The only thing wrong with it, is the color. Why orange? I'd think you'd want to make it more subtle; it looks like a giant warning light."

"That's exactly my point! I want people to stay away from me – to warn them, you know?"

"Don't you want to make friends at middle school? This vest doesn't exactly encourage friendship." **Tip #2: If you want to make new friends at school, dress to impress. Be yourself, relax, and remember to smile! **

Larry looked unsure. "I suppose . . . but I'd rather take that chance then be hurt by the bullies."

The bus began to move towards its destination. Sam didn't live far from the Middle School, so they would arrive in a matter of minutes. The bus was rather silent – people were silent, either trying to catch a last minute snooze or whispering to their friends about who did what over the summer.

Sam fidgeted anxiously in his seat. Bullies – nature's little joke. How could people with so small a brain, be so large in size?! It just didn't seem right. Sam didn't have any tips, unfortunately, to deal with bullies. He was woefully inadequate in that area. DJ was no miracle worker either – her tactics in dealing with them usually involved her fists and any other manner of weapon she could find. Sam was not a violent person; he preferred to use the power of words to get out of trouble.

He hadn't been in a fight since that one time . . . .

_**(Blood, blood, oh my God, it's everywhere, mommy, daddy, what's wrong with him, I'm sorry, I'm SORRY!) **_

Sam broke out of the memory. What had he just been thinking about? Oh, yeah, Larry's vest. It was so cool!

"Hey, Larry, what does this button do?" Sam pressed a section of the vest. Larry jolted and tried to stop him –

It was too late. A fine stream of mist sprayed out of somewhere on the vest, and proceeded to hit the bus driver's face. He jerked and began to scream.

"Sam, NO!" Larry was panicking.

"What was that?!" DJ shouted. The bus driver's hands had left the wheel and were on his face. He was trying to rub something out of his eyes. The bus began to swerve dangerously back and forth, its skidding tires trying desperately to stay on track on the slippery ground.

Lightning flashed somewhere, and thunder roared overhead. Before anyone knew it, Mr. Gus had collapsed onto the floor of the bus. The bus veered sharply, and the children screamed.

"Pepper spray, it was pepper spray!" Larry shouted.

Sam flew out his seat and grabbed Mr. Gus. "Mr. Gus, Mr. Gus, you need to get up! Up!" Mr. Gus mumbled something unintelligible. "What?"

"Allergic . . . pepper spray." He gasped and fell unconscious.

DJ had left her seat as well; she was grappling with the out-of-control steering wheel of the out-of-control bus. It was no videogame; this was life or death.

"What's wrong with him?!" she shouted, straining with the wheel. It was constantly changing directions due to the slipperiness of the road underneath them, and an eleven-year-old girl (no matter how strong) could only do so much.

"I think it's the pepper spray! He said he's allergic to it!"

There was a choking sound from the back of the bus; a nasty splattering sound; and someone groaned. A child from behind them had vomited after becoming car sick. The smell of half-digested food came wafting from the back of the bus towards the front. Sam crinkled up his nose at the smell, and tried not to vomit himself.

"Who the hell is allergic to pepper spray?!"

"Apparently, Mr. Gus is!"

"Well don't just sit there doing nothing; help me out here!"

Sam snapped out of his self-induced apathy and stumbled his way over to the struggling DJ. "What do you need?"

DJ laid out her plan; she would handle the steering wheel; Sam would handle the gas and the brakes; Larry would change the stick shift. They would have to work as a team to get out of this one.

When all three were in place, DJ began to bark commands.

"Sam, the brakes!"

"Larry, second shift!"

"Sam, press on it!"

"Larry, third gear!"

"I said third gear, Larry, not fifth!"

"Still on third gear, Larry!"

"Ease up on the gas, Sam!"

"I don't care if she puked on your shoe, Larry, just shift the stupid gear!"

The bus veered and turned; it swerved and threatened to hit anything even remotely in its way – but through the team effort of the three eleven-year-olds they managed to keep the bus (and any pedestrians) safe.

Mr. Gus, during the chaos, somehow managed to wake up. "What – what's happening?"

Sam noticed the now awake bus driver. "Mr. Gus, you're okay!"

"What happened?"

"Well, Larry – yes, Larry, this is partially your fault, don't look at me like that – made a security vest, and I accidentally pressed a button, and it released some pepper spray, and I guess it hit you on the face, and then you fell down, and then that guy over there puked out his guts on the bus floor (sorry about that – he had a big breakfast, I guess) –"

"SAM, GET TO THE POINT!" DJ shouted.

"Oh, right. Mr. Gus, we need you to drive the bus, now, please!"

Mr. Gus shakily stood up, moved past the three eleven year olds and began to wrestle the controls of the bus. It was now a battle of wills between the lion and the lion tamer (well, not really).

For a terrifying couple seconds it looked like Mr. Gus was losing the battle. Then he pressed on the gas pedal, shifted to next gear, and turned the wheel – the bus was now under control once more. Sam, DJ, Larry, and the rest of the occupants within the bus let out a collective sigh (except for the poor guy who vomited, fearing that if he opened his mouth again he would repeat the action once more).

* * *

Several minutes later, Sam checked his Mickey Mouse glow-in-the-dark watch and said weakly, "Hey, look on the bright side – we're going to be early."

DJ snorted. Typical Sam, trying to make the best of things but injecting some of his own wacky humor into the situation. It was a trait of his she loved – Sam always found the silver lining in any situation. He never failed.

"Going to be early? More like we're lucky to be ALIVE." DJ retorted.

"Yeah, that too."

DJ turned to Larry. "Well, Larry? Have you learned your lesson?" Her emerald green eyes flashed with a burning anger. She was definitely mad at him.

"Yeah, I have! This thing WORKS!" Larry punched the air with his fist in triumph. "Oh, yeah!"

"You're dead as soon as I step foot off this freaking bus, Larry."

Larry gulped and instinctively fingered his orange security vest. Mr. Gus had overheard their interesting conversation and said amusingly, "No fighting, children."

"No, of course not, Mr. Gus." She cracked her knuckles rather loudly, however, to make her point. Larry seemed to shrink into his vest with each crack.

They had almost arrived at their new school. Any second now . . .

Three . . .

Two . . .

One . . .

The doors flew open, and Larry (with amazing speed) threw himself out. DJ was hot on his heels. "GET BACK HERE, LARRY!"

Larry was fast when he wanted to be, but he couldn't match DJ's natural born speed. Within seconds he was down, and the gruesome spectacle began. His girly screams could be heard across the school. Sam stepped out and thanked Mr. Gus for the, uh, interesting bus ride.

"No problem, Sam. Just to tell your friend, Larry, that I forgive him." His demeanor turned dark. "But if he pulls another stupid stunt like that, he's going to meet the front fender of my bus at 50 mph."

Sam laughed – then saw the expression on Mr. Gus's face. "Ah, you're serious."

"No, of course not! My parole officer would kill me!" Bawling with laughter, the doors of the bus closed, and Mr. Gus and his bus left leaving behind only the acrid smell of CO2.

Sam stared out after the bus. After a while the bell rang signaling the beginning of middle school. Shaking his head, he headed toward his two waiting friends (DJ was throttling Larry but the scruff of his vest, actually – several boys had tried to save Larry, only to find themselves kneed in the – well, you know). So far, the day had proved eventful and interesting. But Sam just wanted to have a normal school day – the bus was crazy enough as it was. He wrote down a quick tip:

**Tip #3: The bus is a great place to do homework, catch up on some sleep, and study. It's also a great place where you can just kick back and relax with your friends before and after school. But be nice to the bus driver – he/she IS the one in control of the bus. Don't goof off too much, and remember safety ALWAYS comes first. **

All right, his Guide was coming along nicely. The day was turning out to be pretty good after all.

The rain began to pour down even harder, and thunder roared dangerously over head. People began to flock inside the school for cover. Lightning flashed once more and Sam, DJ, and Larry ran inside with the crowd. Drying off their clothes in the hallway next to their new lockers, Sam saw the one thing that could ruin his first day at Middle School.

Bullies. His mouth curled up in disgust. No! He would no longer be afraid of them. They would not ruin his and his friends first day at school! Sam puffed up his chest and stalked toward them –

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Bigby." Jerk stared down at him. That was his name – Bigg Jerk (Author's Note: Lame, I know. But it gets the point across.). His pals next to him - Chum and Buddy – sniggered as though that were the greatest joke in the world.

"Hello, Jerk."

"Your shoes are untied."

Sam looked down – and instantly regretted it. Jerk's push came out of nowhere, and Sam found himself sliding across the wet floor on his back. Sniggering Jerk and his companions jeered at Sam. "Way to go, Bigby! Maybe you should call your girlfriend to help you up – and DJ too!" They bawled with hysterical laughter. Larry shrunk into his vest trying to make himself seem smaller and unnoticeable, but DJ made a move towards Jerk and he and his friends scampered off. They were terrified of her.

"You okay, Sam?" DJ asked.

"I'm fine, DJ, thanks." He got up, and shook his head. "Those three have always ruined my first day at school! But not this time! NOT THIS TIME!" Laughing maniacally he ran off, plans of revenge already forming in his head.

DJ shook her sopping wet head. "I've got a bad feeling he's off to do something stupid."

"He won't hurt them; but I think he's going to get revenge on them another way." Larry observed this with the eye of an experienced best friend.

"Better go after him, you think?" DJ asked.

"To make sure he doesn't get hurt?"

"Yeah."

"Sure. What are best friends for?"

The two friends ran after Sam, slipping and sliding through the wet floors. Many misadventures waited for them in this Middle School of dreams and hopes. Their first day at middle school was just beginning.

Welcome to James K. Polk Middle School.

* * *

I, uh, apologize for my abrupt ending with my previous story Ned's Declassified SSG: Sins of the Past. I had, unfortunately, gone crazy with the plot and accidentally created several different ways for it to end. Faced with this story gone terribly mad, I had no choice but to end it – for now. I hope you all will understand. I needed to take a break from writing about Ned and Moze for once – so I decided to do this! I've actually wanted to write this story for a long time now (since I started, actually). I hope you all like Sam, DJ, and Larry – they're my new Ned, Moze, and Cookie. You probably see some similarities and differences. And if you aren't sure if you like them, well don't worry! I'm just getting started. So, yeah, read and review and see if you like them. I hope you do.

BlueRoyKaz


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Three Are Separated **

DJ and Larry sprinted after Sam in the slippery hallways; it was no easy task – Sam was extremely good at keeping his footing on the slick floor. DJ had the advantage of speed on her side, but in conditions such as these, they were more of liability.

"SAM! SAM, GET BACK HERE!" DJ yelled at the back of her best friend. He was clearly looking for Jerk and his friends – what exactly it was he planned to do when he met them was still a mystery. DJ and Larry, being the good friends they are, were trying to make sure that he didn't get himself hurt in the process.

Sam skidded down one hallway, stopped, and turned a corner. DJ eyes widened at this nimble display of grace and agility – it wasn't something you'd expect out of an eleven-year-old, and especially out of Sam Bigby.

She and Larry ran full pelt after Sam; they rounded the same corner and prepared to run after him –

Only to run into something large and solid; a man was standing in their way. Both friends were knocked backwards. Rubbing her butt, DJ looked up and eyed the stranger. He was an odd looking one.

He was tall, and with thinning black hair. The stranger wore black sunglasses; and what appeared to be the following: a white jacket (with the sleeves pushed up to the elbows); a pink undershirt (very odd); white silk pants; and white loafers. He wore a yellow helmet with what appeared to be a police siren attached on top. It was flashing at them.

"Where do you think you two are going?" the stranger asked. He whipped off his sunglasses, and his dark eyes peered down at them.

DJ tried to see past the man, looking to see if Sam was behind him – but to no avail. Sam was gone. Sighing with frustration, DJ picked herself up and stared back the man.

"Um, just who are you – sir?" she asked politely.

"Vice Principal Crubbs!" gasped Larry. He seemed in awe – and fear.

"That's right – have you heard of me?" Crubbs seemed pleased to know that he was well-known.

"Yes sir. I have heard of you, from the other students."

"Oh, really? And what exactly did they say about me?" Crubbs seemed particularly pleased to hear that the students had been talking about him – perhaps he thought that the students liked him and had said nice things about him.

He was wrong.

"You're the terror of the entire student population!" Larry blurted out. DJ glared at him. Crubbs smile turned into a scowl in a span of mere seconds. He reached out, and with surprising strength, lifted them up by their collars and proceeded to carry them off to some unknown location.

"Hey, wait, where you think you're taking us?!" DJ tried to struggle but it was no use. Crubbs was too strong.

Marching along, he growled: "It's the first day of school and I already catch two students running in the hallway – especially when the 'NO RUNNING' sign has been posted because of the wet floors! Not only that, but they have the nerve to insult me!"

Great. Their situation had gone from bad, to worse. Oh well. DJ still had Larry to keep her company to wherever Crubbs was taking them. She glanced to her side –

Her jaw dropped. Larry was gone. All that was hanging from Crubbs fist was an empty orange vest.

That little chicken. He had taken off his vest and slithered out of Crubbs grasp without a hitch. DJ had no such advantage – all her clothes were still soaked. She muttered something colorful about Larry.

"AND language, too. My, my, my you are just the troublemaker aren't you?" Crubbs noticed his empty hand. "HEY! Where'd that other kid go?"

"I honestly don't know, sir." But when DJ found out – oh, heads would roll.

Crubbs was livid for a moment – then he smiled crookedly and his attention was all directed toward DJ. "That's alright – I still have you. Your friend will pay later."

DJ agreed.

"Welcome to James K. Polk Middle School, miss. You're a lucky one today – you get the extended free tour of Vice Principal Crubbs office!"

DJ groaned, and Vice Principal Crubbs continued his mad march towards his office. She could not believe her luck right now. The day was just starting and she was already neck deep in trouble.

She idly wondered what Sam (and that soon-to-be-dead Larry) was doing right now. DJ – despite her current circumstances – wished that both of her friends were having better fortune than her.

* * *

Sam was having the worst of luck today. After running after Jerk and his comrades in an extreme fit of maniacal rage (nothing new from Sam) he had, to his great misfortune, caught up to them. It was at the worst of moments.

"Listen, Porcupine, you know the deal. You give us the lunch money that is in your pocket, and we'll make sure you don't get hurt." Jerk smiled nastily to give his point across. His hand was stretched out, expectantly. The kid – Porcupine was his name (his hair was sticking up like the needles of a porcupine – go figure) was backed up against a dead end, and the three bullies were cornering him. He had no way out. But he still resisted.

"No way! I know the routine – I give you the money, and you STILL beat me up." Porcupine looked defiant. Jerk's smile turned upside down in a flash. He gave a great exaggerated sigh.

"Oh, well. We warned you, man." His fist pulled back –

All thoughts of revenge disappeared from Sam's mind. In a flash, he was in front of Porcupine, using his body as a shield. Porcupine looked amazed. So did Jerk.

"How'd you get here so fast?" he asked, flabbergasted.

"What I lack in size, Jerk, I make up for in speed", Sam retorted. His clear blue eyes challenged Jerk's dark ones.

"Let's see you dodge this, then!" His fist rushed at them.

Sam caught it, and Jerk found himself struggling. "Maybe we can talk about this?" Sam asked, nervously. Fighting always made him anxious and fidgety for some reason. He couldn't remember why.

"Talk about what?"

"You know this whole situation with Porcupine's lunch money. Perhaps a trade, a bargain, an agreement between you two?" Sam relied on wit and words to get out situations like these. He prayed that it would work.

It did.

"Okay, fine. But what do I get for not pummeling him?" Jerk folded his arms across his chest and waited. He seemed amused by Sam's offer.

Sam sighed with relief, and in his mind he was writing another tip in his ever-expanding Guide: **Tip #4: Violence is ****never**** the answer. If you're ever in a sticky situation (like mine, for example) take a deep breath and calm yourself down. There's always another way out. Compromises and negotiations make for great ways to defuse the situation before it explodes. If you think that the problem might get violent, make sure that you have a trusted adult nearby to act as mediator. Everybody wins, and more importantly no one gets hurt. **

"I'm waiting, Bigby", Jerk said impatiently.

"Okay, okay, uh . . ." a thought came to his head suddenly, "how about MY lunch money instead?" He dug deep into his pocket. Sam was reluctant to give up his money – that meant no lunch for him. But if it would ensure Porcupine's safety, then it was well worth a missed meal.

"Deal." Jerk took the money. "Later, Bigby. Later, Porcupine. It's good doing business with you both." He snickered and left them both. Sam, relieved at how well that went, sagged against the wall and sat down on the floor.

"You didn't have to do that, Sam." Porcupine sounded both grateful and ashamed.

"No, its okay, Porcupine. As long as you're unhurt then it was worth it."

"But you're going to be hungry for lunch!"

Sam shrugged. "It's probably nothing good anyway." (Sam actually had a whole section in his Guide about cafeteria food.)

"It's the first day!"

"So?"

"So, that means that it's Pizza day!"

Pizza Day? Sam's stomach rumbled hungrily at the idea. Pizza Day was one of Sam's favorite days of the year. Mmmm . . . pizza. Another tip formed in his mind: **Tip #5: In case of emergencies, always bring a back up lunch (or extra money) just in case. You never know. Best be prepared. **

"Uh, Sam? You're drooling a bit."

"Huh? Oh, sorry." He wiped it off.

The bell rang. It was time to get to class. Sam stood up, and began to walk to class. He waved good-bye to the grateful Porcupine one last time before disappearing around the corner.

Porcupine made squeezed his hands tight until they both hurt. That stupid Jerk and his friends. They had taken Sam's money! Porcupine owed Sam – and he would make sure that he would pay that debt in full. How to get back at Jerk . . .

An idea slowly formed in his mind. He smiled, and followed Sam to class.

* * *

Larry was having similar luck – he, too, was trapped. But not by bullies or vice principals – no, he was being trapped by weasels. A whole pack of them, staring at him with their nasty little glow-in-the-dark eyes.

He was trapped in the Janitor's closet – in his daring escape from the Vice Principal (and subsequent ditching of DJ – he would make it up to her later; that is, if she didn't kill him first) he had darted to the nearest closet and locked himself inside.

Not one of his greatest plans yet. The weasels stared at him, waiting for him to make his next move. He gulped, and suddenly wished that he had at least tried to bring his orange vest with him. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He had to think!

Larry applied his enormous IQ to the problem. Think, think, and think!

Pffft. Brain fart. He was screwed.

"Hey, who's in my closet?"

The light suddenly switched on to reveal a man lying on a hammock inside the closet. Larry could not believe it. Someone lived in here? Who the heck lives inside of a Janitor's Closet?

"Who's that?"

The man squinted at Larry. "Do I know you?"

"Uh, no", Larry squeaked nervously.

The strange man leaned forward to squint at him some more, and Larry managed to get a better picture of him. He was wearing a janitor's uniform, and had messy brown hair that was laced with some gray. Kind brown eyes stared at him, and Larry noted that he had a weird TV-narrator kind of voice. Odd. Larry got the feeling that this man could be trusted. He reminded Larry a lot of Sam – just older.

"Are you sure I don't know you?" Gordy asked (Larry noticed the name on the uniform).

"Yeah . . ."

Gordy shook his head, and yawned. "I'm sorry – it's just that you remind me a lot of a friend of mine."

He noticed the pack of weasels. "Ah, weasels! You're awake. Sorry, it looks like Momma isn't back yet. She'll be better, soon, I hope. Ned, Moze, and Cookie volunteered to help her get better – haven't heard from them for awhile, though." He seemed a little saddened by this. Larry was curious – Ned, Moze, and Cookie. The names sounded so familiar . . .

"So I take it those are your weasels?" Larry asked cautiously.

"Well, not really mine. They are the schools! School mascots you could call them, I guess. Crubbs keeps finding ways to try to get them out, but Principal Wright likes them fine." He noticed Larry's age. "You're new here aren't you?" He suddenly seemed bright and happy again.

"Yes, I am." Larry was feeling safer and safer with Gordy – the guy projected an aura of friendship and kindness.

"Do you have friends?"

"Yeah – Sam and DJ." He suddenly felt guilty about DJ – Larry had ditched her to Crubbs after all. And he didn't even know how Sam was doing.

"What's wrong?" Gordy asked noting his suddenly guilty expression.

Larry explained his situation.

"I see." Gordy rubbed his chin thoughtfully and sat thinking. Then a thought came to him. He eyed the weasels.

"I've dealt with Crubbs before – and he doesn't like the weasels. Not because they pose a danger to the school (which they don't – a little rabies never hurt anyone) but because he's personally afraid of them. If I can distract him long enough, your friend DJ can escape . . ."

Larry shot his hand down his pocket remembering something. He pulled out a small remote control. It was a separate remote control that he could use for his orange vest! It could help them during the escape . . .

Together with his new friend, Gordy the Janitor, Larry began to plan how to bust DJ out of her prison.

* * *

DJ sat idly in Crubbs office; waiting for him to come back (he had left to go get some powdered doughnuts in a vending machine). She sat calmly, peacefully, and tranquilly – how you ask? Simple: she was imagining all the things she would do to Larry when she caught up with him. This caused a large, nasty smile to light up her face; as Sam would say, she was having one of her 'moments'.

**DJ's POV **

**DJ's Moments: Periods of varying lengths of time, where I get so angry at someone or something (i.e. Larry and his STUPID orange vest) that my mind is temporarily consumed with images of random acts of violence against said person or object. I kind of zone out, but not in the way most people imagine regular daydreaming to be. **

DJ was so absorbed in her little fantasy involving her holding a golf club and a gagged and bound Larry, that she didn't notice Crubbs returning from the vending machine. He had taken Larry's orange vest with him (DJ didn't want to get Larry in trouble – as weird as that sounds – because if Crubbs had Larry, then how would SHE get to him) just for safe keeping. Crubbs threw the vest down onto the desk where it landed with a rather loud thud. DJ winced – she had already seen what the vest was capable off.

"Sorry about that Miss Ryan – it's been a rough day for me. The powdered doughnuts help me keep my rosy complexion free of wrinkles and rashes from the stress of this job." He popped one in his mouth and chomped down on it, with clear disregard for manners. DJ watched unembarrassed however – living with Sam made you immune to certain disgusting things.

"Can you believe it? It's the first day – I get a report that a bus almost crashed on the way to school; bully reports are popping up all over the campus; you and that Larry almost crash into me; AND the school is on high alert!"

High Alert – James K. Polk was on high alert? Why?

"Sir, if I may ask – why?" DJ inquired.

"I don't know – you two were the ones who almost crashed into me! Ask yourselves that!" He proceeded to pop two more powdered doughnuts into his mouth. Sugar cascaded down from his mouth onto his shirt and desk, not unlike snowflakes.

"No, not that – why is the school on high alert?"

He swallowed the two doughnuts before he finished with them. He gagged on them for awhile, and then washed them down with some coffee from his thermos. Then Crubbs began to gag on THAT as well (it was fairly hot).

When he was finished, he replied with a fake smile, "I didn't say that."

DJ was intrigued – why was he denying what he just said? "Yes, you did. I just heard you!"

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"Look, I'm not here to argue with you little boy."

DJ's anger – already boiling with heat at Larry – erupted like a volcano. "I'M A GIRL!"

Crubbs looked vaguely disinterested. "Oh, sorry about that. A common mistake of mine." He carelessly examined his fingernails (covered with powder and chunks of doughnut).

DJ calmed herself down using a technique taught to her by Sam. She held her breath for ten seconds and closed her eyes shut. When ten seconds were up, she slowly exhaled out and opened her eyes. She was finally calm. DJ tried to obtain information once more.

"Why is the school on High Alert?"

Crubbs eyed her out of the corner of his eye. Then he sighed.

"I guess I've let the cat out of the bag too soon. Principal Wright would kill me if I he found out that I told a student this . . . but I don't have choice anymore." He ran a hand through his thinning hair and sat back in his chair.

"Have you heard of a woman named Mary Jane Rapier?"

"Who?"

"WEASEL!"

What?!

* * *

The weasel flew through the air, and hit Crubbs full on the face. He shouted and his hands rushed to his face. The weasel began to scratch and bite ferociously. Crubbs screamed and stood up, trying to get a better grip on the thing.

DJ watched with bizarre fascination at the unfolding scene. Just what the hell was happening?!

A small hand reached out and grabbed the orange vest from Vice Principal Crubbs desk. DJ recognized that hand immediately – Larry!

"DJ, I've come to bust you out", Larry whispered. He was crouched down low, his dark face practically shining with excitement.

DJ's fist rose up immediately without second thought. It was pure instinct.

Larry whispered loudly, "NO! DJ, NO!"

"Why not?"

"I'm here to rescue you!"

"You're the one who put me here in the first place!" DJ retorted.

Larry looked guilty. "But I'm here aren't I?"

"HEY! You two – get your butts over here pronto!" Gordy gestured at them to move it. DJ exhaled, frustrated, and sprinted out of the office with Larry on her heels.

"Who are you?" DJ asked Gordy as they ran out.

"I'm Gordy." He squinted at her. "Do I know you?"

"No. Why?"

Gordy shook his head. "Nothing. Déjà vu, I guess. You remind me of a girl I know." He smiled a little sadly, and then shook his head. "But hey, out with the old, in with the new."

DJ had no idea what he was talking about – but he was a friend. DJ took Gordy's hand and shook it. "I'm DJ – short for Danielle Jennifer. But I prefer DJ. Seriously, I prefer DJ. Call me Danielle or Jennifer and I'll kick your ass. Nice to meet you, Gordy."

Gordy stood up proudly and gripped DJ's hand vigorously. "Right back at you, DJ. Let's see where this interesting friendship goes." He smiled at her broadly.

Larry cut in. "Uh, guys, I don't mean to cut in, but he's, uh, GETTING ANGRY!"

"GORDY! YOU'RE GOING TO GET IT NOW!" Crubbs came rushing out of his office and glared at the three individuals with a murderous gaze. There were weasel scratches and bites all over his face.

Gordy whistled and suddenly more weasels came to their aid. He pointed at Crubbs and they immediately made their way toward him. In seconds, Crubbs was covered with the whole pack of weasels.

"We have to go now", Gordy urged.

DJ nodded. An abrupt roaring sound resounded from behind her, and she realized that Crubbs had thrown off the entire pack of weasels. He held up a small spray canister. Labeled on it was –

"Weasel repellent! Where did you get that?!" Gordy demanded.

"From your closet, Gordy. During my last inspection I sneaked some into my pocket. Just in case something like this happened." Crubbs was crazy – he clearly wasn't having a good day.

"EVERYBODY DOWN!" Larry threw something at Crubbs – something small, spherical, and metallic –

It exploded and a cloud of smoke covered the hallway. DJ found herself coughing and wheezing, until someone picked her up. Who?

"DJ! You alright?" Sam?

"Sam, what are you doing here?" she asked, dumbfounded. Through the dense smoke she really couldn't tell, but Sam looked a little worse for wear. His hair was tussled up – he had a black eye, a split lip, and he looked to be in some pain. But he still picked her up, ignoring the pain it caused him.

Larry appeared through the smoke with Gordy. Both were wearing gas masks. "DJ are you alright?" He was worried. Gordy, however, was staring at Sam.

"Do I know you?"

Sam said, "No – but having another friend never hurt anyone." He stuck out a hand. "Sam."

Gordy shook it. "Gordy. You look familiar . . ."

Sam shrugged and pulled DJ off the floor. Gordy shook his head, and asked Larry what he had thrown at Crubbs.

"Knock-out gas. Non-lethal. That little baby will put Crubbs out faster than you can say 'quantum mechanics'. Not only that, but he won't remember anything afterwards. It erases your memories – temporarily, of course."

Gordy looked engrossed in Larry's invention. "Ingenious! Sounds like something from the army."

Larry looked nervous. "No, it isn't."

"Illegal, eh?"

". . . Maybe."

Gordy clapped on Larry on the back, grinning. "My kind of guy! I have an army-issue net launcher in my closet you might want to see . . ." He led Larry through the hallway.

"Cool!" Larry looked excited.

Sam carried the slumping DJ on his shoulder, and began to carry her through the hallway. He noted the extremely large mess they had made and called out to Gordy, "What are you going to do about the mess? You're the janitor, right?"

"Eh, I'll let the night guy get it."

Sam grinned. DJ became aware that he was limping – quite badly, in fact. "Sam, you're hurt."

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me", he said cheerfully.

She suddenly grew suspicious. "Does this have to do with that Jerk?"

Sam's cheerful smile never faltered. "No. Well, not really. I'm going to solve that problem, soon."

DJ was interested. "I'd sure like to hear about that."

"Maybe at lunch. I'd like you to meet some new friends of mine."

"Not until you see a nurse."

Sam pouted. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"Uh-uh, Sam Bigby. You march yourself up to the nurse's office right now." And with that all thought of Mary Jane Rapier was flung from her mind.

Gordy eyed the two young ones from afar. He whispered to Larry, "What's with those two?"

"Who, Sam and DJ?"

"Yeah. They seem a little close. Best friends, I assume."

"Yes – almost brother and sister. They'd never date, of course." Larry's attention returned to Gordy's army-grade net launcher.

"Yeah, okay, whatever." Gordy had experience in that kind of relationship – best friends were always destined to date, one way or another. They were just too close. He decided to keep on an eye on those two . . .

DJ finally managed to convince Sam (well 'convince' is really an understatement; more like 'threatened') to head over to the nurse's office. She shouldered him and Sam limped with her looking sullen that he had lost the argument.

Principal Crubbs lay unconscious in a hallway, covered in scratches and bites – and sleeping weasels. When he woke up, Crubbs would not have any memory of what just happened. . .

Three bullies were waiting for Sam at lunch – but Sam and his newfound friends had a surprise in wait for them . . .

A mysterious woman named Mary Jane Rapier was worrying the teachers at James K. Polk Middle School . . .

What a weird first day – and it still wasn't over.

* * *

Uhhh . . . yeah, so another chapter. I'm sorry if it took so long – I've been kind of sick lately. I caught a cold, and it took several days to get over it. Ugh. I hate being sick. Well, anyway I'm better now. But I'm depressed. Frankly, I preferred being sick. Why am I depressed? Almost no one is reviewing my new story! 3 reviews in . . . what? 5 days! One of those reviews was mine! So yeah, a little depressing. I'll still continue of course, to those who review (MUCH appreciated to those who review). I'm pretty sure they'll all review again – you guys loved my other story. But where is everybody else? Oh well. I'm hoping that they'll start reading again, soon. So yeah, read and review and more will come.

REALLYBlueRoyKaz


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: A Legend is Born! **

Sam lay in the nurse's office, waiting impatiently for the nurse to finish her job. He wasn't hurt that badly – honestly, it was just a waste of time. The nurse tenderly wrapped his twisted ankle in gauze; dressed his wounds with alcohol (that stung) and bandages; gave Sam some painkillers (his kidneys were killing him). When she was done the nurse discharged him with a friendly farewell.

"Have a nice day", Sam said to her.

"Don't tell me what to do", she retorted. The door slammed in his face.

Sam smiled. He liked Polk more and more with each passing second. He turned around and began to walk towards a preoccupied DJ. She was staring at a bulletin board, with several pieces of paper attached to it. DJ was particularly interested in one spouting something about Volleyball Tryouts. Very interested, as she didn't notice when Sam tripped and began to scream bloody murder for about several seconds. That was a first.

Sam cradled his still throbbing ankle; pain shot through it like fire. He didn't even notice he was yelling. DJ snapped out of her self-induced lethargy and ran to the injured Sam.

"Yeah, thanks DJ." Sam muttered when she helped stand him up properly. "It would help to move a little faster, though. It's not like I have a twisted ankle, or something."

DJ chuckled, chagrined. "Sam, you never were good at the art of sarcasm."

He pouted. "Am I really that obvious?"

"Sam, you're an emotionally straight-forward kind of guy. It's not in you to be subtle and all that stuff."

"I can be subtle!"

DJ laughed out loud, causing some passerby to stare. "Yeah, right. You can't even keep a secret."

"I can, too! I've kept plenty of secrets for you!"

DJ eyed him, amused. "Oh yeah? Name one."

"How about the one where you curl up a lock of your hair every time you lie?"

DJ's jaw dropped. "I do not." She began to nervously curl up a lock of her reddish-gold hair. Sam grinned, his point proven.

Surprised, she stopped herself. "I didn't even know that I did that." She eyed him warily. "What else do you know about me?"

"Lots of stuff", he said casually. But there was a sparkle of mischief in his clear blue eyes. "More than you might know yourself, DJ."

Sam was more observant than he let on – DJ made a mental note to get a lock installed on her bedroom door.

The two good friends made their way to lunch.

* * *

Larry was impressed by Gordy's collection of 'toys' that he had acquired over the years. Most of them were illegal, or patented by the military.

"Gordy, where did you get this stuff?" he asked in awe.

"Heh, EBay I guess."

"Ah. Makes sense."

The bell rang shrilly. Larry jolted.

"Guess that means lunch time! I'll come with you; the cafeteria isn't far from here." Gordy stood up and led Larry towards the cafeteria where his friends, Sam and DJ waited. Gordy escorted him to the door; then stopped remembering something.

"Something wrong, Gordy?" Larry asked.

"Ah, no. I just remembered I have people I need to meet." He checked his watch. "Like right now! I've got to run; tell Sam and DJ to stop by anytime if they need my help."

Larry nodded. "Will do. Thanks, Gordy."

He smiled. "No problem, Larry." Gordy sprinted back towards his closet, and freshened up a bit.

Ned, Moze, and Cookie should be arriving any second.

"Hey Larry!" Sam waved him over to their table, which was crowded by many unfamiliar faces. Larry hesitated – then began to walk slowly toward the table. Who were the new people?

He suddenly wished that he had his vest – but he had left it behind with Gordy, for safe-keeping. Larry's heart was beating like crazy.

"Larry, I'd like to introduce you to some new friends of mine."

Porcupine – a small, scrawny kid (not unlike Sam) with beady black eyes and extremely spiky hair that looked like the tip of a knife up close; Veronica Ragweed– a blue eyed, brown-haired beauty (that Sam was clearly smitten with); Dora Remy – a shy, dark haired girl with large spectacles that blew her eyes way out of proportion; Chad "Chatty" Garrulous – his mouth never seemed to stop moving; Prissy Meany – clean blonde hair, a cynical smile, she has 'control freak' written all over her; and then there was the odd boy – Jak Kaz (Author's Note: Ha, ha, ha! A little joke of mine – hope you'll understand) a medium sized boy with black wavy hair, and warm brown eyes hidden behind smart looking glasses. DJ eyed him with some interest.

And there you have it – the gang and all.

"Wow, Sam. How'd you get so popular?" Larry wanted to know. He sat down on the table and began to munch down on his pizza.

"Eh, I guess they heard about my Guide", Sam said modestly. DJ rolled her eyes and consumed several slices of pizza.

"Nice manners – I take it your parents must be pigs?" Prissy asked DJ. She was offended by DJ's lack of manners.

DJ did take this pretty well – 11 years of not having parents hardened her from the inevitable teasing and insults. She replied, "Go screw yourself."

"You know you're already growing a mustache? Go shave it – it looks like you've got a dead weasel on your lip or something", Prissy retorted.

"I'll shave mine when you shave yours", was DJ's witty reply.

Prissy sat back and narrowed her eyes at DJ; DJ did the same. Sparks flew and a mutual dislike of each other bloomed that very day – one that would last the rest of their school years together.

Sam quelled the fight between the two girls. "No fighting, please. I've seen enough of that for today."

"Actually, Bigby, we don't think you've seen enough."

Sam froze and slowly turned around. That voice . . . it couldn't be –

Jerk and his pals stood behind Sam, their arms folded. Jerk's eyes burned with an intense rage. Sam smiled sheepishly. "Hey, Jerk, how's it going?"

Jerk seized Sam and hauled him upwards. Sam's lunch spilled onto the floor from the chaos.

"You duped me, Bigby."

"No I didn't – I gave you the money." Sam was nervous.

"Yeah, you gave me the money all right – PLAY MONEY!" His friend, Buddy, pulled out a wad of play bills (courtesy of Monopoly) and threw them onto the ground. The cafeteria grew hushed at this confrontation.

DJ and Larry stood up. "Put him down, Jerk", DJ commanded.

"Stay out of this DJ!" Jerk snarled. He began to drag the terrified Sam away – presumably to beat the living snot out of him in a less private place. DJ took immediate action; she stood up on the table and leapt at Jerk's head. She was on him in mere seconds, beating her fists against his head. DJ was a pretty tall girl for her age, and had a slight advantage.

"Ow – ow – OUCH! Get her off me!" Jerk couldn't hit girls – bully code of ethics or something – so he was helpless. His friends scrambled to his aid, trying to pull her off him. In the confusion, Sam was dropped onto the ground. His bad ankle hit the floor first, and he shouted in pain.

Larry was panicking – DJ was doing her best to help Sam; what could he do –

A light bulb turned on in his brain. He had an idea! Larry grabbed a piece of pizza from the plate, and threw it at Jerk. It hit dead on. The cafeteria grew silent, and with wide eyes everyone turned to Larry. He nodded.

"FOOD FIGHT!"

And it began. Food flew everywhere and with a great cheer, the middle schoolers of James K. Polk began battle.

* * *

From the doorway of the cafeteria, three very familiar faces watched the unfolding mess happen before their eyes. Ned, Moze, and Cookie observed with grinning faces as they watched Sam, DJ, and Larry waging battle.

"Huh, I remember those days." Ned was reminiscing.

"Good times, eh?" Cookie asked.

"Both of you are a little too sentimental." Moze rolled her eyes, but she too was remembering good times.

"Oh, what's this? You don't think that girl over there reminds you a little of yourself?" Ned was smiling, his eyes staring at her own big brown ones pointedly.

Moze eyed the struggling DJ. "Maybe", she said grudgingly.

"That Larry is a genius – he's enlisting the help of the entire cafeteria to help beat down the bully. I have to admit that's something I probably wouldn't have thought of."

"Yeah, you would have been cowering in the corner – screaming like a little girl", Moze replied sarcastically. Cookie's expression turned sour.

"She's just teasing, Cookie. But seriously, you do scream like a girl sometimes. Sometimes it's embarrassing to have you as a friend." Ned said matter-of-factly.

The three watched their younger counterparts continue to fight.

"Crubbs will be here soon. Think we should help?"

Ned shook his head. "Nah. This is their battle – we shouldn't interfere. Besides, we promised to visit Gordy." He reluctantly turned away from the food fight, and began to walk towards Gordy's closet. Cookie followed him several seconds later.

Moze stayed several minutes more, though. She eyed the struggling DJ and the pained Sam on the floor. She noticed that despite his newly broken ankle, Sam still tried to crawl his way to help DJ. The kid had guts, she had to admit. Guts, heart, and determination – this Sam reminded her of Ned. They could almost be related, too; their eyes were the exact same shade of blue.

She muttered, "Why does this look familiar?" She scrutinized the red-haired DJ and her fiery personality. DJ punched viciously at Jerk's head, and managed to create some very nasty bruises. Jerk would be in a world of pain for a while.

"Hey, Moze! Come on, we don't have all day." Ned motioned at her to hurry up.

"Good luck, DJ. You're going to need it." She caught up with Ned, and gave her a spontaneous kiss on the lips.

"What was that for?!" he gasped.

"Oh, nothing. Just remembering why I love you so much."

"Oh. Why?"

Moze smiled a secret smile. "Because you're you."

Ned was confused. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She kissed him on the cheek. "Nothing, Ned. I just love you."

He shrugged, still not understanding. "Yeah, right back at you, Moze."

They continued on their way to visit their old friend, Gordy. And with that, they passed the cafeteria and walked out of the rest of the story.

Back to Sam and his First Day.

* * *

His ankle was hurting like hell – Sam groaned, yet he still continued to crawl his way through the mess towards the fighting DJ. Jerk was thrashing about trying to shake her loose, but it was an impossible task with all the pizza being thrown at him. Normally, he would have been calling for the help of his friends, but they had been long been overpowered by the mass of eleven-year olds throwing pizza on them. They had collapsed to the floor and were assuming the fetus position to protect themselves.

Jerk, seeing that defeat was imminent, decided to give up. He prepared to kneel –

"What the HELL do you think you're doing?" A nasty sounded voice resounded above him. Jerk looked up – and immediately regretted it.

It was his older brother – Total Jerk (Author's Note: Lame, lame, lame! But you get the idea, right?). He did not look happy.

"Total! What are you doing here?" Jerk gasped.

"You are such a loser, you know that? You're making me look bad – a little girl? You're going to let yourself be beat up by an eleven year old little girl?! Don't make me laugh." Total laughed anyways.

DJ didn't take the insult lightly. She leapt at him.

Total caught her and pulled her up by the hair. She thrashed and kicked but to no avail – the guy was too freaking strong. Total studied her with a dangerous glint in his eye.

"Pretty. Shame, really." And with those casual words, he threw DJ with all his might. Her body crashed into the opposing wall with terrifying speed. DJ thudded onto the ground, and lay still – she didn't move at all.

The cafeteria was silent before; but now you could have heard a feather drop.

Total looked casually around and said, "Anyone else wishes to challenge me?"

Larry looked sick; Jerk, surprisingly looked horrified; and Sam looked –

Where was Sam?

There was a tap on Total's shoulder, and he turned around to find Sam looking up at him. The difference in their sizes was stark and obvious; it was like comparing a bear to a dog.

"And just who are you?" Total asked. He smirked at the scrawny Sam.

Sam's eyes were obscured by a bang of hair, thus removing them from view. But if Total could have seen them, he would have been undoubtedly been chilled by the coldness and emptiness that radiated out of them.

"My name isn't important", said Sam coldly. Larry from across the room, heard him and felt a chill go down his spine. This wasn't Sam talking – who was this person?

"I just want you to know one thing." Sam motioned for Total to lean closer to him.

"What's that?"

Sam whispered close to Total's ear. Upon hearing this, Total stood up and laughed. "You're going to do WHAT to me? That's funny, little man." He laughed and laughed and laughed.

Sam's hand moved fast –

It connected with Total's chest –

He flew backwards –

There was a large crack in the opposite wall –

Total slid down and didn't move. Sam's fist was extended forward, frozen in mid-air. He stared at Total with eyes that were too old for his face. Much too old. He muttered to no one in particular:

"I keep my promises, Total. To friends and enemies alike."

Several feet away, Larry shivered.

* * *

Vice Principal Crubbs arrived on the scene, and screamed with horror at what he found. Pizza covering the walls and the floor – Sam holding a recovering DJ; Jerk helping his injured friends back up; Larry talking to Sam in hushed tones; and an injured Total on the floor. Chaos.

"WHAT HAPPENED HERE?" He roared.

Larry spoke up. "Food fight, sir."

"AND WHO STARTED IT?!"

Larry glanced nervously at Sam. Sam spoke for him.

He pointed at Total. "He did, sir. We all saw him."

Vice Principal Crubbs eyed the injured Total on the floor. "Is this true?"

Everyone in the cafeteria nodded. Even Bigg.

Crubbs sighed, and began to drag the injured Total away. "Very well, then. He's been screwing around for quite some time now. I've been trying to catch him, but no one's been brave enough to turn him in . . ." He noted the mess. "Uhhh – whatever. It's the first day, I'll let you all off. But with a warning!" He eyed them all in typical Crubbs fashion, and then left with the inert Total in tow.

As soon as he was gone, the whole cafeteria erupted into cheer. Everyone crowded around Sam, the new hero. What he had done was amazing – he had the guts to stand up to Jerk and his big brother! A feat worthy of legend, no doubt.

Sam however was confused.

"What did I do?"

They all thought he was just being modest; but Larry saw the sincerity of the confusion in Sam's eyes. He really didn't know. Larry didn't know what to make of that – but he decided to keep quiet for now.

And so the first day ended at last.

* * *

Later on, in the confines of the bus, Sam was writing down another tip. He really was on a roll today. **Tip #6: Strength in numbers – if you are ever facing a bully, make sure that you always have friends with you. They can't take all of you at once. **

"Oh, man – I forgot the vest!" Larry groaned.

DJ seized him and whispered, "Good."

Sam gently pried the two apart. "DJ you should be resting. You have a nasty bump on your head that's going to be giving you headaches for days to come."

"Says you! You have a broken ankle, and too many bruises to count. I'm getting advice from you?" She snorted.

The bus arrived at their stop. The three friends got off – with people cheering them good-bye. The three friends had grown quite popular thanks to the incident at the cafeteria. All three waved good-bye at the bus tiredly. It had been a long day.

Sam and DJ waved good-bye to Larry (well, actually, DJ waved a fist) and retreated into their house. The only thing the two friends wanted was a nice, hot shower and some bed rest. DJ especially – she felt a little sick. Looks like she had just caught a cold. Great. No, seriously great. It gave her a legitimate excuse not to go to school tomorrow; her head was killing her. Sam was right about the bruise.

Sam.

She smiled in spite of herself. DJ had always thought of herself as an independent girl; strong willed, rebellious, and capable of doing anything herself without any help. But Sam proved her wrong – it wasn't the first time, either. Time and again, DJ found herself enlisting Sam's help over and over. It was actually kind of embarrassing, really. But it was something she would never take for granted. Sam was like a loyal dog, really.

She stepped outside her room, and knocked on Sam's door.

He opened it. "Hey, DJ. What's up?"

DJ gave him a peck on the cheek. Surprised, he asked, "What was that for?"

"For saving me, idiot." She gave him a 'light' punch on the arm that would surely leave a bruise. "Thanks."

He smiled – and continued to rub his arm. DJ turned her back and entered the sanctity of her room to finally rest. It had been an interesting first day – Polk was a good school. She planned to try out for its Volleyball team – who knows? She might even make Captain. The previous one was a legend – she planned to surpass that.

Oh, yes. Her days at Polk were just beginning.

* * *

In the dead of night, that mysterious woman named Mary Jane Rapier appeared on the Bigby's front doorstep. She was 18 years old, really. A tall, slender form with dark black hair flowing out from behind her. She wasn't beautiful – but she was attractive. Her eyes matched her hair. They glowed with a faint fire.

The door flew open, and the alert face of James Bigby appeared.

"You should not be here, MJ." His voice was quiet.

Mary Jane laughed. "Good to see you, too, James. I'm just checking on the family." She peered inside and spotted another person. "Marilyn, you're here too. My, my, the gang's all here. Speaking of which, how is little Sam doing?"

Marilyn Bigby's right eye twitched oddly. "Don't you dare mention my son's name, you bitch."

MJ put up her hands in defense. "Oh, still touchy after all these years. You still haven't gotten over that, yet?"

"Over what?" Marilyn spat. "The fact that you killed –"

"Marilyn, hush!" James voice was still quiet, but held the unmistakable quality of command in it.

"I had no choice. They used me."

"They were your parents."

"Let's not talk about the past, shall we? I came here to talk about the future. I'm here for a little vengeance, you see. For what you did to me. For what you took away." MJ's voice had turned bitter – unnaturally bitter. Her dark eyes glowed with intensity.

James Bigby stepped in front of his wife, acting as a shield between MJ and her. "What do you want?" he asked calmly.

"Oh no, James. I won't be doing it today. Maybe not for awhile. But it'll come. And when you least expect it."

"Your parents knew the risks. They tried to protect you."

"They turned me into something I'm not! And YOU helped." Her voice had gone silky smooth. "And if that wasn't enough, you did the same to your own son, Sam. How is the little freak doing anyway? I heard about the fight at school. Total is in the hospital right now for rib fractures and some internal bleeding. Boy doesn't know his own strength, eh?"

James turned pale. Marilyn made a move towards Mary Jane –

But MJ was gone.

Marilyn turned toward her husband. "What do we do now, James?"

"We do nothing. Let's see how this plays out."

"But the children . . ."

"They'll be fine. Sam can handle himself."

Marilyn looked troubled – she had been keeping a dark secret from her son since birth. One that would surely have devastating consequences if he ever found out. It was something that had been eating away at her for quite some time.

"Maybe we should tell Sam."

"No. He is still too young."

"But when will he be ready, James? When?"

James Bigby's face went dark as the night itself. "I don't know."

He looked out into the night, and the vanished Mary Jane.

"But it'll be soon, I think. She always was the impatient type, Mary Jane was."

Marilyn nodded. "Just like DJ."

"Yes. A little too much like DJ." He sighed and sat down in a kitchen chair at the table. "Do you think she'll turn out just like her?"

Marilyn shook her head. "No", she said firmly. "DJ has something MJ never had during her childhood. And that will ultimately keep her from becoming like her sister."

"What's that, Marilyn?"

"Our son, James. DJ has Sam."

James smiled tiredly. "Yes – but for how long?"

* * *

Whew, another chapter done! Man, I'm bushed. Oh well – it was a labor of love. 'Cause I definitely am extremely grateful to all those who continue to review my newest story. Just to let you all know – that was the last chapter. But don't worry! I'm already on my next Sam's Declassified Story. You should be seeing it soon. They'll all probably going to be short like this one – I find it hard to keep a story afloat after a certain number of chapters. So I opted to do this instead – and it works! So yeah, read and review (please for the love of God keep reviewing, I'm up to 5!) and the next story will come soon. Thanks again, and later.

BlueRoyKaz


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